It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. You are right. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. She dumped him because she claimed she didn’t want him to go any farther. The Jacobite IV. “But, forgive me, you are tired.
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